


Vast Atmosphere

by BananaStrings



Category: Cast Away (2000)
Genre: Coda, Healing, Home, Hugs, M/M, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26465389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaStrings/pseuds/BananaStrings
Summary: Chuck chooses not to move on but to stay.
Relationships: Chuck Noland/Stan (Cast Away)
Kudos: 3





	Vast Atmosphere

Chuck set the battered box by the front door. He'd done his job. He'd delivered the last package. He stood there on that porch, thinking of those printed wings, of logos, of objects, of spheres, of these non-responsive symbols he’d imbued little bits of his soul into to keep alive. Reflective surfaces, unable to give anything back but what he gave to them, were echoes.

He walked back to his car, thinking of sitting with Stan that night before he left. Stan didn’t even have to speak. In fact, Chuck had asked him not to. The sounds of speech were too overwhelming after so long without them. His presence alone was alive and giving. He’d touched himself that night, lying on the couch, staring at where Stan had sat.

As Chuck started his car, he couldn’t think of Kelly. Their love had not survived, just the echo of it unable to give anything more. Stan somehow had still been there, offering like an open door. He'd offered him his home.

As Chuck drove back down the dusty driveway, he thought of sitting in Stan’s house. He fantasized the cleaning, cooking, watching tv, and waiting for him to get home from travel, from work. It felt nice to feel what Kelly had felt for _him_ , like a tribute to her. Frankly, he didn’t think he knew how to do much else but wait anymore. He’d confessed that to Stan.

While he stopped at the crossroad to check his map, he thought he could wait on the road, with the help of strangers like the woman and her dog and her truck who paused to give him directions. Just a smile would make the time pass more easily.

He made his way back to the highway, because he knew he could wait in one place too. There would be names to go along with those smiles and stories that changed over time. He could again form responsibilities, like he’d had to Stan to give support and attention when he was hurt.

As his car picked up speed, he knew he wanted that, to expand that way again. He’d thought travel, outer expanses, would make him feel bigger. He'd thought to again be part of a complex and dynamic world, like the man he’d been before. He'd been a man so sure of himself, so certain that he'd mattered.

Stan had mattered, just by sitting still. How powerful just to be present. How long Chuck had spent in absence, sloughing off more and more of himself to survive. He'd practiced losing and leaving and letting go. Finally, he was no more than the smallest movement of air in the vast atmosphere.

_I have to go home._

He’d thought he would find one out here, somewhere new. Somewhere would beckon him like a raging tide that pushed him once again to safety. He didn’t want that anymore. He wanted to choose.

Stan didn’t seem surprised to see him back so soon and didn’t make a big deal out of it. He just drew Chuck into the same routines he’d had before he'd left. Chuck still chose the couch over the guest room. Too many walls felt too much like a cave, like eternal solitude. He needed the big windows of the living room to remind himself over and over in the night of where he was.

"I’m getting better at this, at saying how I’m feeling. I had a lot of practice, a lot of conversations with myself. I really didn’t know how great of a motivational speaker I was, till I had to talk myself into eating raw fish every day."

Stan’s smile was small. He was careful around Chuck, like he was half-wild and couldn’t bear anything too big or sudden. Chuck appreciated the kindness in it. The implication soothed. At least Stan didn’t want to scare him off, to shoo him like a bothersome crow that perched on the roof and cawed too loudly.

Stan tried to stay close, so Chuck wouldn’t have to be alone too much. He stood with him in the kitchen, while he made himself a sandwich. He sat with him like this at night, when it was almost unnaturally quiet after years of wind and waves and rain. Sometimes Chuck needed to make some noise, to hear something.

"I’d be happy to hear your thoughts now too," he prompted, releasing Stan from the courteous silence.

Stan brushed at the skin beneath his eye with his index finger. Some subtle impulse must have traveled along his nerves, tingling the sensitive skin there. Chuck wondered what it might be. He thought of embarrassment, tightening thin skin and heating almost itching.

"I hope you won’t think less of me, but I feel better about my life when I listen to your troubles."

Chuck laughed out loud. Too loud, he realized, at the sound in the quiet neighbourhood at night. He was still too unrestrained, forgetful of normal human limits, but it had been so long since he’d been charmed by anything. He was not acclimated to it again yet. He felt himself grinning open-mouthed and surely uncouth-looking.

"I think that’s wonderful," Chuck said.

He watched Stan’s smile slowly pull up, like it was lifted by something. Chuck wanted to kiss him. Chuck stopped grinning to think. It was one more difference between who he had been and who he was now, one more to add to the list. He still thought Kelly was the most beautiful woman in the world, but his visceral attraction had shifted from her litheness to the thicker middle of a man.

He wanted that abundance, that wealth many men didn’t even know they walked around with. It was beautiful to him now as well. He certainly hadn’t used to tell himself that, looking in the mirror at the rounded belly he'd had. He'd been moved to soft chastisements or self-deprecating humor but not lust.

When Stan rose to say goodnight, Chuck rose with him. He’d been hugged a lot since his rescue. He had been glad for it, even if he hadn't quite been able to feel it yet. The gesture itself was nice, that people would go to the trouble of trying to make him feel welcome. Stan hadn’t really touched him much, like he didn’t want to crowd him. Chuck would have to ask aloud.

"Do you want a hug, before you go to bed?"

It came out a lot more bluntly than he'd expected. He’d kept fairly quiet, when people had tried to speak with him, sometimes saying nothing at all, uncertain what his voice might do unbidden. Stan didn’t look startled, but thoughtful like hugging someone might mean more to Stan than Chuck had realized.

"It’s okay, if you don’t," Chuck assured, and it was, just being near was a lovely thing.

"I do," Stan replied quietly, spreading his arms to make room.

Chuck could feel himself grinning unchecked again, as he stepped forward. He was cautious as he enwrapped him, doubting his self-control and not wanting to cling and grasp. However, as their chests touched, he was made meek with wonder. His lungs filled deeply, full, without a bit of effort or coaxing from his tired mind. They kept filling and emptying deeply and slowly, and he didn’t even have to tell them to.


End file.
